


Furniture

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Collars, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edging, Hand Jobs, Human Furniture, Leashes, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Punishment, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Teasing, slight cock and ball torture, slight dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18311036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Spectre decides that all work and no play makes Ryoken a very dull boy, so he decides to fix that and he has plenty of ideas.





	Furniture

   Two dull thumps on the doorframe caused Spectre to look up from the computer. He smiled, appreciative, as Ryoken let himself into his office – their office, really – and set down a tray of snacks and tea on his desk. Spectre was half-amused by the situation. After all, it was usually the other way around, but they had been asked to work in tandem today, rather than side-by-side so a different dynamic to their relationship had been elicited. Though, Spectre would soon return the favour.

   “Good timing,” Spectre said, and he got up, he placed a hand on the back of the chair, “I think the wheel on this is squeaky, but it might just be my imagination. Would you care to check for me?”

   Ryoken was miffed by the request, but ultimately happy to oblige. He just found it odd that he wouldn’t notice that if his desk chair suddenly requiring oiling or something and without him noticing it. Though, it would be Spectre’s luck for it to start doing such a thing in Ryoken’s absence – an absence which had spanned a forty-five minutes at the most.

   Ryoken got down on his knees and Spectre shuffled awkwardly aside to give him room. Ryoken moved the chair to and from but he couldn’t hear anything. He glanced over his shoulder and went to open his mouth but was stopped. Spectre was wearing an interesting expression – a little “I just won” type expression – and his hand was poised ready to click.

   “Shit.” Ryoken murmured instead of what he had been going to say.

   Spectre laughed, innocently, and snapped his fingers. Ryoken’s mind went black. His eyes fell closed and he was at Spectre’s underhanded mercy.

   Groggily, eventually, Ryoken was able to open his eyes. He was of a bleary mind, but he was still quick to start attempting to process what had happened in the down time between now and then. He glanced around. He was still on the floor. His knees kind of hurt and when his head tilted downwards, he realised that he was wearing a collar. Likely attached to a leash given the fact that a cord was hovering in his view. Something he hadn’t been so quick to notice at first. His hands were also bound in some rather gorgeous-looking leather cuffs. They smelt brand new and Ryoken would have been aroused if he had been asked first but for now, he was more concerned by the weight on him. So, he craned his head and discovered that Spectre was sitting on him, on leg delicately hooked over the other, with the end of a leash looped over his pretty hands.

   Spectre smiled sweetly for Ryoken who huffed, unamused.

   “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: do not use your hypnosis on me.” Ryoken scolded him. There was a serious edge in his voice, but Spectre remained undaunted.

   “I know, I know, but I just thought we might skip the formalities today, I have some grand ideas, you know.” Spectre replied, and he gave a gentle yank on the leash.

   The collar bumped around Ryoken’s neck, irritating his skin with exactly how fresh the leather was, and the cord lifted slightly, tightened by the yank before dropping back and loosening slightly. He wanted to be mad with Spectre for going ahead and doing all this but with the smell of leather in his head, made it difficult for him to be of rational thought. Not to mention, it was slightly arousing for him, already he could feel the blood rush of lust, curl and coil particularly around his groin. He sighed.

   “Very well then,” Ryoken said through gritted teeth, “enlighten me, what are these grand ideas of yours?”

   “Human furniture.” Spectre stated.

   Ryoken was partially dazed by that response. It certainly explained why he was being sat on as he was and the fact that he was cuffed. Ryoken hadn’t thought Spectre would be into that, but as he critically examined the parts to it, of course Spectre was into that. It was the natural combination of at least two things he liked. After all, forniphilia did encapsulate sexual acts of immobility, generally imitating furniture and if there was anything that Spectre adored to fetishize, it was anything made of wood and anything made of leather.

   “Interesting…” Ryoken replied, chewing on the word thoughtfully. “Let’s do it. Have as you will with me. I trust you.”

   “Excellent, well, you’ve served well as my chair thus far, but I have your next position already in mind.” Spectre said.

   “Good.” Ryoken said.

   He had done well to mask the fact that his knuckles and knees were burning from keeping himself propped up like this. Not to mention the fact that Spectre was not as daintily light as he must think he was. Ryoken would estimate that Spectre to be about sixty kilograms and having all of them press down on Ryoken was making his back ache.

   Spectre proceeded to gracefully lift himself off Ryoken’s back. He held back a sigh and Spectre made a gesture for Ryoken to sit up. Again, he held his tongue as he got comfortable.

   “Move the desk out of the way for me, please.” Spectre said as he adjusted Ryoken’s bindings on his wrists and Ryoken was perturbed by the way they all but magically separated for Spectre and yet, were so unrelenting unto him.

   “Of course.” Ryoken replied, glancing downwards occasionally and towards his individual cuffs.

   He got to his feet and Spectre watched as Ryoken shoved the desk away the corner. Not completely sealing off its access, just in case Spectre desired that they perform sexual acts atop it in one form or another, but still off to the side and giving them sufficient space. Ryoken turned back to Spectre who smiled warmly, batting his eyelashes towards him.

   “Your next instruction is that you are to be my clothes rack.” Spectre told him.

   “Uh-huh…” Ryoken mumbled, not entirely certain of how he ought to fulfil such an instruction.

   Spectre huffed. Ryoken could be so unimaginative at times. So, Spectre organised Ryoken for himself. He had Ryoken hold out both his arms, as though he were flexing. Spectre’s hands ran along the folds and creases of Ryoken’s jacket, touching here and there for no reason other than the fact that Spectre wanted to somewhat discretely admire his partner’s biceps.

   “Oh…” Ryoken murmured once Spectre had finished fixing him.

   “Good.” Spectre said, and he pressed a quick kiss onto Ryoken’s mouth.

   Ryoken smiled beneath it, but it was all too chaste. But the goal was to remain restrained, so for now, he would let his desire simper beneath his mouth and a controlled expression. Though, he could feel his lips twitch as Spectre began to undress himself before him.

   Spectre was needlessly elegant as he removed his jacket. His shoulders jutted forward slightly and Ryoken was allured by just how sharp a frame Spectre possessed. Then, lovingly, Spectre placed the jacket over the crook of Ryoken’s arm and any allure he was experiencing a moment ago faded. Playing the role of clothes rack was not overly appealing, Ryoken would rather play the role of a dog, so that he could at least hump his Dom and take a more active role in it all, but this was the game Spectre had chosen and besides, it wasn’t entirely without benefit.

   Spectre proceeded to unbutton his vest. His fingers delicately picked apart the buttons and it was like watching clockwork. Ryoken’s gaze settled very eagerly on Spectre’s fingers which were long and slender. Beautiful, really. His movements were so gracefully calculated; especially as he undressed, relishing the feel of Ryoken’s assessment of his body and arousing himself from imagining himself together, pressed up against Spectre in sorts of positions.

   Spectre placed his slacks over Ryoken’s arms. He continued to hold Spectre’s clothes steady and Spectre drew in closer to him. He placed his hands either side of Ryoken’s hips and their chests soon met. Spectre held onto him and kissed Ryoken. Ryoken kissed back, a hum on his lips, as they closed their eyes to each other.

   Warmth blossomed between their lips. Gradually coming undone to each other; messy and open-mouthed with Spectre’s fingers clinging tightly to Ryoken. Spectre licked along the bottom of Ryoken’s mouth and he moaned into it. Spectre, roused, opened his eyes and lifted his gaze ever so slightly to meet Ryoken’s. His eyes, a darling and pale teal, were strong with a bedroom haze, Ryoken found himself growing hotter and hotter beneath his touch. Though, his arms were beginning to ache from having to keep them held so high.

   And, of course, Spectre noticed. He could feel the rising bulge beneath the fabric of Ryoken’s trousers and with that, he broke off the kiss. Ryoken sighed, petulant, but Spectre gave him a sharp look which shut him up before he could even breathe again. Though, fortunately, he didn’t stray too far.

   His touches persisted and evolved. Spectre took the initiative once more and began to undress Ryoken. Ryoken could have vibrated over how nice it was to feel Spectre on him like this. Normally, if they were to become intimate, they would undress themselves – or simply do it after coming out of the shower, or something so this slightly twist to their usual pattern was electric. Not just for Ryoken, but for Spectre too.

   There was something forbidden about it. Seemingly, but not truly so. Up until recently, he had felt that he wasn’t permitted to touch Ryoken. Not like they would as children, anyway but near deaths made them sentimental and amorous so now, they opened themselves up to a lot more affection than previously.

   Spectre began with what was in front of him first. He delicately undid Ryoken’s buttons. His fingers were deft and Ryoken could admire them all day long. They were so long, and his nails were manicured. Spectre temporarily relieved Ryoken of his post as clothes rack, taking back his own clothes but only so he could remove Ryoken’s arms from his sleeves. He was careful with the cuffs which remained on Ryoken’s wrists, manoeuvring the fabric of Ryoken’s clothes around them without ever taking them off. It was strangely masterful, or so Ryoken thought as he admired the way Spectre touched him. Regardless, in relatively short space of time, Spectre’s clothes were returned to his “rack” and now, Ryoken’s own clothes laced over his arms too.

   But, of course, there were other things for Spectre to pay attention to first as he had only removed Ryoken’s jacket and shirt. Spectre then took the plunge, going to his knees and he smiled with a hungry glint in his pale teal eyes as he then took to addressing Ryoken’s trousers. He was more than a touch excited to handle Ryoken’s zipper as he pulled it back. But it was all about restraint. Not purely from Ryoken, but from Spectre too who forced himself to ignore the bulge in favour of removing Ryoken’s trousers wholly. Though, Spectre was far too quick – and was tentatively messy in this sexual haste – to throw them over Ryoken’s arms and then handle his underwear.

  Now, they were both in the nude and Spectre was at eye-level with Ryoken’s freed cock. He licked is lips as he admired the length. His dear Ryoken-sama was so handsome and of delectable attribute. His eyes flicked back to Ryoken’s. His gaze was fixed on his lover, with an element of begging to the crisp hue of blue that his pupils were. Spectre smiled. His decision made.

   “Alright, Ryoken-sama,” Spectre said, indulging him carnal pleasure and he closed his eyes to Ryoken as he kissed him briefly before his hand wound around the cord still attached to the collar Ryoken wore, “but you still have your duties as clothes rack to perform and failure to comply will result in being punished.”

   Ryoken kissed back. He mumbled a reply – acknowledgement, consent – and it reverberated on Spectre’s mouth. Spectre smiled but he drew back. He tugged on the lead and Ryoken’s head bobbed in response. Spectre lethargically toyed with the leash before ultimately winding it around Ryoken’s stiffening cock. Ryoken licked his lips and grunted as Spectre tightly secured it, playing with his testicles and he felt the threat of leather. So dulcet and menacing.

   Spectre lifted his head. He kissed Ryoken again. He laced his hands along the back of Ryoken’s shoulders, linking them innocently and continued to kiss him with an ardent joy. They were so close; chest to chest, their genitals ghosting against each other, teasing and hinting at their hardening and needy arousals.

   Ryoken melted at Spectre’s touch. He possessed such a sweet kiss: utterly consuming and utterly loving. Ryoken adored it. He adored Spectre as he kissed back ardently. All whilst feeling the twinge of his arms; a low soreness creeping through his arms as the clothes weighed on him.

    Spectre kissed him and Ryoken grunted into his mouth. Spectre’s brow quirked and he drew back. The embrace remained and, if anything, tightened. Spectre came in closer.

   “Are you doing alright, Ryoken-sama?” he asked, his voice a purr twisted with lust.

   Ryoken licked his lips and gazed into Spectre’s eyes. Heat pooled beneath his abdomen and his muscles clenched. Spectre noticed and took it all in stride, as an invitation. He kissed Ryoken with renewed passion. His tongue penetrating Ryoken’s mouth. Something Ryoken was all too eager for.

   He felt Spectre map his mouth with his tongue. Pressing his tongue into Ryoken’s mouth, searching for every nook and cranny. Plunging into the pools of saliva around his teeth and tongue. Taunting and pushing on it. Ryoken’s throat tightened and he felt his gag reflex stir yet it was all so lost in the lust that Spectre elicited from Ryoken.

   It was all so electric, Ryoken found. And he couldn’t resist such forceful kissing. It caused heat and lust to bloom and burn inside of him. With the dull ache of holding his arms up, Ryoken crumbled beneath the weight the clothes, growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. So, Ryoken gave up.

   His arms clasped around Spectre’s waist. He dropped the jackets and trousers and whatnot to the floor. He pressed back against Spectre’s tongue, changing the flow of their ardent kiss. Spectre retreating somewhat, moaning, as Ryoken pressed past and trespassed onto his mouth. His tongue slipping between Spectre’s lips; messy and slick.

   Ryoken’s hands holding tightly onto Spectre’s nude waist. His hips were bony and his skin taut and grainy; hints of those six months of electrocution somewhat healed. Ryoken enjoyed every moment of it because he knew he had broken the rules and his punishment would be soon. But, for now, Spectre was content to let Ryoken revel in his failure.

   But all good, sweet things must come to an end eventually. Though Spectre thoroughly enjoyed how Ryoken smouldered beneath his touch, Spectre broke off. His hands slipped from behind Ryoken’s neck, a mournful, ghosting touch as he ran his fingers over Ryoken’s skin, and he tore his mouth away. It was time, Spectre kept telling himself and that put a strange light in his eyes. Glinting but not quite malicious. It was certainly indicative of him looking forward to administering his punishment unto Ryoken.

   “Ryoken-sama.” Spectre prompted.

   “I know,” Ryoken sighed, “go ahead. Do your worst.”

   “With pleasure.” Spectre said.

   He ran his tongue over his lips as he stepped back. Ryoken’s back straightened. He was allured by the way Spectre conducted himself; especially in these sorts of scenarios and scenes. He was tender and callous all at once. It was perfect. Wonderful. Even as Spectre concluded sizing up Ryoken and grasped Ryoken’s dick.

   Spectre’s delicate fingers traced over the leather. Toying with the thick vertices which were fresh and untouched by fraying thread or similar. He smirked. His eyes darted up to Ryoken’s and he felt his cock stiffen. And, without further delay, Spectre punished Ryoken.

   His fingers twisted around Ryoken’s cock, tightening their graceful lock on the leather and Ryoken squirmed. He swallowed spit rolling around in his mouth and then moaned. Spectre toyed with the leather and harshly tugged on it. Ryoken moaned again; his voice frayed and lewd.

   Pink strips began to emerge on Ryoken’s cock. He was so sensitive in the midst of his lascivious moans that Spectre adored. Ryoken’s cock twitched as Spectre gave a third yank on the cord. Ryoken panted. His brow and shoulders glistened with sweat. He shuddered.

   “One more,” Spectre said, coaxing, “just one more, Ryoken-sama.”

   Ryoken nodded. His words clotting in his mouth, but his eyes betrayed his ecstasy over being punished. They were heavy-lidded and sparkling; so keen for the pain in hues of brilliant blue. Spectre licked his lips and pressed a quick kiss onto Ryoken’s mouth. He was so irresistible like this.

   Spectre retreated all too quickly and Ryoken kissed the air as he had moved away from him. His tongue running across his lips, in search of his precious Spectre. But once more. That was what Spectre had told them both and he unwound part of the tight coil of leather that he had kept on Ryoken’s dick.

   Ryoken watched. Tantalised by how deftly Spectre used his fingers and how the leather looked between them both. He took a breath and closed his eyes. His nerves beneath his skin, so electric and jumpy as he readied himself for this final delegation of his punishment.

   Spectre yanked on the cord. A groan bubbled up through Ryoken’s throat but did not escape his mouth. Not yet. Spectre hadn’t finished yet. Spectre rolled the end of the cord over his hand and yanked once more. This time, Ryoken screamed. His sensitive cock assailed by the tight leather which sank beneath his sensitive skin. He gave a cumbersome spurt of pre-cum, no doubt his erection threatening to spill more than just that. The pink marks were heavily embedded on his flesh and Spectre swooned.

   “You’re so lovely, Ryoken-sama.”

   “You’re so good, Spectre.”

   Their exchange was soft in the wake of Ryoken’s louder vocalisations. And it enticed Spectre. He unclipped the cord from Ryoken’s collar and then he removed it from the base of Ryoken’s cock. With his fingers slipped over the cockhead, Spectre was quick to move it. Something small, something quick ensued. A kiss over the slit, a bit of tongue, tasting the salt and pre-cum, and then nothing more.

   “Please, Spectre, I want you.” Ryoken confessed breathlessly.

   “Soon, Ryoken-sama, but not yet. I want to play with you some more. I have plenty more duties for you to perform, for me.” Spectre replied.

   “Very well then. I’m at your disposal, love.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre’s heart pounded and his cock twitched. His arousal more than apparent his companion due to their equally nude states. Thus, Spectre blushed, it was so unexpected and yet so sweet. The use of Ryoken’s affection was like a dollop of cream on an already decadent dessert. It was indulgent and something Spectre wanted more and more of.

   “Thank you.” Spectre said, at long last. After the beat of conversation had long since passed.

   Regardless, Spectre managed, and he was able to resume the actualisation of all the different items on his list. They were almost there; two thirds of the way, really before they could fellate or perform more conventional manners of intercourse. So, Spectre indicated the clothes that Ryoken had dropped.

   “Please pick these up for me, Ryoken-sama.” he said, the words on his tongue vaguely awkward as his first instinct was to serve, rather than be served.

   “No problem.” Ryoken mumbled.

   Ryoken bent down and picked up the items of clothing that he had dropped earlier. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, at least not overtly, but he certainly hoped that Spectre enjoyed the show to speak as he made languid work. He grabbed the clothes, heaping them together and then drew back. Spectre batted his eyes at him, a smile tugging at his lips and Ryoken

   “Here, I’ll take these.” Spectre said and there was an impish note to his voice.

   Ryoken handed over the bundle.

   “Give me two seconds.” Spectre said. “And then, I’ll masturbate you, or perhaps fellate you, if you’re lucky.”

   Ryoken’s ears pricked at back. He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he couldn’t get enough of Spectre’s hands or mouth on his cock, so he was certainly delighted by the prospect. But he wasn’t naïve or forgetful. He was certain that there was an aspect that Spectre had neglected to mention. So, he waited until Spectre was content with putting away the clothes.

   He folded them neatly as he left Ryoken in the centre of the room.  Spectre wandered back to the desk and he stashed the clothes and collected what he was after. When he turned around, Ryoken felt a lance of discomfort. He studied the pens and pencils Spectre was bringing back and his ass clenched involuntarily.

   “Spectre…” Ryoken warned in a low voice.

   “Yes, Ryoken-sama?” Spectre replied, bright eyed and deceptively blithe.

   “What are you doing with those?” Ryoken asked.

   “Inserting them into you, of course.” Spectre said, his voice demeanour remained unchanged: he was utterly finite, even within his sexual bliss.

   “Yes, but where?” Ryoken asked.

   “Sit down.” Spectre told him.

   Ryoken’s legs twitched but he did not buckle.

   “Sit down, Ryoken-sama. On your knees.” Spectre instructed him a second time, this time his voice a toucher deepr and his his façade cracked. In his perceived petulance, Ryoken obeyed this time. Spectre smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Ryoken-sama. Much better this time, my darling.”

   Ryoken kept his head up and his ass clenched. Spectre knelt down next to him and kissed his cheek. Ryoken watched from the corner of his eye, flicking away when Spectre noticed. But he remained demure.

   “Your next task, as you may have realised by now, is that of pencil holder.” Spectre said. “Now, they’re only going in your mouth – today anyway – so, which way would you prefer. Horizontal, like a horse’s bridle? Or perhaps stuffed outwards.”

   Ultimately, Ryoken preferred neither but with Spectre’s hard gaze drilling into him, he realised that he would have to make a choice.

   “Horizontal.” he replied.

   “Thank you.” Spectre said.

   Spectre leaned in and Ryoken opened his mouth to him. Spectre carefully filled Ryoken’s mouth with the utensils. His teeth clacking over the casings. His tongue flicking around in his mouth, reviled by the taste but Spectre didn’t seem to mind the disobedience slowly emanating from Ryoken. In fact, there was an almost dreamy sort of look in Spectre’s eyes and when Ryoken checked, just briefly, he could tell that Spectre was more aroused by this than their previous exchange. Of course.

   “Now, as you can imagine, this game will have a punishment for if you don’t meet my standards.” Spectre continued.

   “Uh-huh.” Ryoken replied; his voice transformed over the obstacles in his mouth, poking out the sides.

   “Similar to before, you lose this little game if you drop the pens or pencils from your mouth for whatever reason. And, as punishment for losing, five strikes to your behind. I’ll either whip you or spank you, I haven’t decided yet.” Spectre said.

   Ryoken went bright red and his cock twitched. Such little gestures which meant the world to Spectre who grinned maliciously.

   “Excellent.” he said. “Then, let’s begin.”

   Spectre took sitting beside Ryoken, one hand behind Ryoken’s ass and the other, lazily finding its way to Ryoken’s cock and yet, that was the most exciting thing about Spectre that Ryoken found. Instead, he fixated on Spectre’s expressions. They were ungodly and yet all too fun to study. The smirk that tugged at Spectre’s plump lips was enticing. Ryoken swallowed and he kept his hands at the base of his back, being kept stringently straight just in case Spectre decided to judge him of his courtesy, as well as how he was able to maintain the pens and pencils in his mouth. Slowly, Spectre’s hand curled around Ryoken’s cock, upright and erect.

   He toyed with the veins rising on Ryoken’s skin. Tracing them with contained eagerness. Then, he admired the marks that he had induced earlier once more. He was fascinated by Ryoken’s cock and more fascinated still, with how Ryoken reacted to his ghosting touches, so faint and roused.

   Spectre soon firmed though. His thumb elegantly pressed upwards. He rubbed beneath Ryoken’s cockhead and gripped tighter, and took his time downwards, as he listened to Ryoken struggle to moan as freely as he would like. The noise bobbed up and down in Ryoken’s throat, reverberating over the casings of the obstacles in his mouth, and in its awkwardness, it was a beautiful melody unto Spectre’s ears. He was all the more coaxed by such a thing.

   He applied more pressure. He sensually massaged Ryoken’s phallus, jerking him off slowly and with steady hands. Ryoken groaned. Spectre’s expression shifted, becoming smug and satisfied with himself as he continued to pleasure Ryoken under the present conditions. Achily, wearily, Ryoken’s breath was stunted, his chest rising and falling with a shuddering undertone to it as Spectre masterfully manipulated his penis. Something which Ryoken was coming to drool over due to having his mouth so filled with obstacles and his pleasure so wondrously contorted to Spectre’s very carefully constructed whim.

   Spectre’s eyes flicked to Ryoken’s mouth. He licked his own lips and then lifted his head to Ryoken. Their lips did not meet, but something akin to a kiss ensued regardless. All whilst Spectre continued to give his all in a hand-job, so dedicated and disciplined yet eliciting of great and lustful emotion within Ryoken. Between it and the kiss, Ryoken was spoilt in his emotional bondage. Spectre’s teeth clacked against the own stationary that he put in place. He liked it though. It was teasing for Ryoken who was so close and yet so far.

   Moving onwards from Ryoken’s stuffed mouth, Spectre kissed downwards. Kissing the corner of his chin and licking at the dripping saliva running down Ryoken’s face with lewd mess. He mewled onto Ryoken’s skin, soft yet crinkled with half-dried saliva. Ryoken took an extra, unnecessary breath and Spectre felt it. Ryoken swallowed. All his little noises, all of which Spectre adored, made strange over the wood and plastic which remained, for now staunchly, in his mouth.

   Encouraged, Spectre’s mouth drifted down. He peppered Ryoken’s neck and shoulders, even breast, with kisses. They were flitting and haunting, but marvellous – and to be marvelled at – all the same. They didn’t leave any marks on the way down, as Spectre snaked around Ryoken, neglecting the masturbation he was performing on Ryoken but Ryoken was quick to realise that it was all in preparation of something else. Fellatio.

   Soon enough, Spectre went down on Ryoken and the warm wetness of his mouth was all that Ryoken could desire. Spectre hummed. The vibrations were skittish upon Ryoken’s sensitive skin and he enjoyed them. Spectre’s tongue nudged along the slit wetly with delicate pointedness. He took a shuddering breath as he was ravished so sweetly by Spectre’s tongue.

   Ryoken tried to swallow. His chin tipped upward as a noise, awful and lusty and mangled, bobbed up and down in his throat, with his larynx. His mouth was drying fast and his eyes were rolling back into his head. His shoulders twitched and Ryoken was possessed swiftly by the desire to exude gratitude in his smothered ecstasy as enacted upon him by his lover. Something Spectre noticed and appreciated.

   Such brittle noises that Spectre elicited from Ryoken gave him renewed motivation to ravish Ryoken. Spectre was unafraid the grotesque taste of the musk and salt upon Ryoken’s genitals, kissing and licking hungrily. All whilst slowly going down further on Ryoken. Even if it momentarily gagged or choked him, with the taste of bile skirting at the back of his filled mouth.

   Ryoken’s heart pounded and his ears rung. The more and more he felt of Spectre’s mouth and tongue, the more his body ached. His lust was rising unto its fever pitch. He could feel his blood and adrenaline ring through him.

   “Pl-” Ryoken’s voice was weak.

   Spectre drew back slowly. Ryoken felt the air on his cock as Spectre retracted, his saliva encircling Ryoken’s shaft. Ryoken shivered.

   “Yes, Ryoken?” Spectre asked, soft, and then kissed Ryoken’s cockhead, licking over it lazily.

   “I wa- I want to…” Ryoken mumbled.

   “It seems you will have to choose then.” Spectre replied impishly.

   Spectre resumed going down on Ryoken. His lips sealing, once more, around Ryoken’s cock and licking it over, sucking him off. Ryoken shivered. Prickles rose on his skin and his breath hitched in his parched throat. Spectre’s words, so curt and unkind, echoed in his head. And the choice that Ryoken was drawn to was soon made.

   He would be permitted to cum as freely as he would like, if he rejected his role as pencil holder. However, of course, if he did such a thing, he would break the rules of the game. And Spectre was still deliciously undecided on what such a punishment would entail in this next part of their play.

   For Ryoken, such a choice was all too obvious. He would always pick what pleased him best, even if it was to the detriment. And so, he leaned away from Spectre, careful not to bump into him as he was all but, in his lap, lying on the floor as he was for the best angle to pleasure Ryoken, and allowed his jaw to slacken. The pens and pencils tumbled out. Ryoken nattered. He was displeased with the taste remaining in his jowls, which were stiff. It made him irritable, but Spectre was quick to distract him.

   Once more there was a fuller force to the technique in which Spectre bestowed upon Ryoken’s plump and erect cock. Ryoken moaned. Spectre’s lips twitched as he felt such a deep and guttural noise reverberate within Ryoken’s body. Ryoken shivered and finally, at long last, he felt permitted to cum as Spectre sucked him off. His cock erupted with fluid, free-flowing as he moaned.

   Spectre took it all upon his mouth. Not quite drinking it, but certainly relishing it all the same. He swallowed it, with closed eyes and without any expressions of distaste. Ryoken watched as such a thing happened in his lap and his heart pounded. His body ached with the aftermath of his release, a pleasant pain within his muscles, slowly loosening out in sexual contentment.

   Eventually, Spectre pulled back. He licked his lips but did not paw at his mouth. His lower backed ached from grovelling before Ryoken as he, but he put such a thing aside in his mind. For now, he allowed his gaze to be saturated with his own satisfaction. His erection, in his own lap, quite stark and begging, Ryoken realised when he permitted himself to drop his gaze to Spectre’s genitals.

   “Don’t mind me,” Spectre said, pleasantly, “we’re focusing on you.”

   “…Right.” Ryoken replied, his throat was raw from his moaning and from holding all the pens and pencils in his mouth.

   “And right now, we should be deciding your punishment. After all, once more, you failed me.”

   Ryoken harrumphed. He knew such a thing was untrue. He was keenly aware that in Spectre’s perspective, Ryoken could do no wrong but for the scene, he was somewhat willing to pretend that Spectre had the capacity to perceive him as fallible.

   “Now, I have to admit, I haven’t given much thought to my preference. Should I whip you or should I spank you? Which do you desire, Ryoken-sama?” asked Spectre.

   “Spank me, please.” Ryoken replied, almost demure. His heart fluttered and he could feel a flicker in his own eyes, a reignition of his own lust. His cock twitched.

   Spectre noticed and raised a brow. He leaned in, placed one hand on Ryoken’s thigh and one hand on Ryoken’s cheek. His fingertips trailing along Ryoken’s hairline. He sweetly caressed his lovers face, he melted into Spectre’s touch with a heavenly expression which warmed Spectre’s heart and pricked at his erect cock.

   “Very well then, Ryoken-sama. Your wish is my command.” Spectre murmured.

   “Thank you.” Ryoken mumbled as Spectre pressed a kiss onto his mouth.

   Said kiss was stained with the taste of his own cum. He did not close his eyes in this kiss. His and Ryoken’s gaze remained very much in tact throughout their kiss which was ravaged by brevity. Perhaps it was because it was so curt, but Ryoken was hesitant to let it end. A peculiar notion given that he very much desired Spectre’s hand, striking him in rapid punishment. He could salivate over the idea of it – and, in truth, he had in past.

   Spectre got to his feet first and snapped his fingers. Heavily, wearily, Ryoken got to his own feet as well. But he was a touch wobbly at first; an uneven sway to him as he shifted his weight between his feet. A sting of pins-and-needles ran up and down his legs.

   “Please go to the desk and hold onto it. You can choose how far to bend over it.” Spectre instructed him.

   Wordlessly, Ryoken obeyed. And, he was never one to begrudge Spectre, so he put his nose to the desk. He lifted his ass for Spectre, giving him a full view. Spectre rolled his eyes. _Exhibitionists_ , Spectre mused. Spectre drew in closer. His hand ghosted over the sensitive skin of Ryoken’s ass. Without thinking, Spectre gave a pinch Ryoken gave a great squeak due to it. But he soon melted into such a thing. He shivered and sighed, to Spectre’s utter amusement.

   “Ready?” Spectre asked, a sweet curl in his voice.

   “Of course.” replied Ryoken.

   “Then just as we agreed. Five strikes.” Spectre confirmed.

   And so, without further ado, Spectre struck Ryoken’s backside. Already, the pale of his skin began to redden. Spectre smiled. He struck a second time. Ryoken gave a garbled moan the second time. His shoulders trembled and he held tighter onto the desk. Thus, Spectre spanked him a third time. Ryoken grinded against the desk in reaction to the third hit. His erect nipples grated against the smooth of the desktop. He groaned. Spectre relished the reactions and it spurred him onto his fourth strike.

   Ryoken came as a result of being spanked for the fourth time. His groan had been high-pitched and his body spasmed. His cum splattered across the underside of the desk and it dripped down, slowly and carelessly. He panted and he was seeing double. All whilst he remained so firmly against the desk with Spectre leering over him, drilling holes into the back of Ryoken’s fluffy, white head with his stern, domineering blue-teal eyes.

   “You truly are enjoying this… Clearly, you’ve entrapped me in your own fantasies, abusing my courtesies by taking you on face-value. How cunning.” Spectre commented after enjoying the spectacle of his partner coming. “That is quite naughty of you, sir. After all, I’m the one who is supposed to be in charge.”

   “I can’t help it; it’s my nature.” Ryoken replied, aroused by having his slightly underhanded replies to Spectre’s questions finally noticed.

   “Very well then.” Spectre said.

   Without warning, he struck Ryoken’s backside once more. Ryoken made a strangled, but ultimately pleasured, noise which soon turned to panting. A desire for more, but that had been the final strike, he counted. So, he shivered. Spectre was pleased nonetheless, especially as he assessed Ryoken who was all but begging for more. The pale of his backside had been replaced by rather stinging, pink marks now. The echo of Spectre’s elegant hand had arisen upon Ryoken’s cheeks. That turned a dear smile unto Spectre’s face, at least until his eyes wandered off the body of his lover and unto the table. He soured and then tutted.

    “You’re so messy, Ryoken-sama.” Spectre admonished him.

    “M-My apologies.” Ryoken embarrassedly replied.

   “Don’t fret, though. Step aside, just a moment.” Spectre said.

   Ryoken abided by the instruction and hovered behind Spectre. Spectre leaned over the table, to grab something, and Ryoken sized him up. His neglected cock bouncing below him, his ass riding up and giving Ryoken a full view of all his private places. Ryoken all but tempted to take him right there and then because he wanted some deeper, more bodily stimulation but he knew he would get some once Spectre’s games had all been fully enacted. So, for now, he would obey as Spectre returned to his full height.

   He brandished a handkerchief. It fluttered about, a mocking of a fan-like motion to cool himself but he was far too hot and flustered for such a measly gesture. Thus, Spectre sank to his knees and began to mop up Ryoken’s semen. He scrubbed at it hard, dragging his handkerchief through the mess, both on the floor and on the underside of the table. Ryoken drew in a deep and sucking breath. It was both uncomfortable and extremely alluring to watch, but fortunately Spectre didn’t draw out his cleaning any longer than he needed to be. There was a hasty twitch to how he mopped it up and he soon drew back.

   Spectre grinned. He returned to his full height and half-rested against the table. He licked his lips and something of a deranged look surfaced in his pale teal eyes. Ryoken shivered. Most would be reviled by Spectre’s more bizarre facial expressions, but he found a strange appeal in them.

   Spectre applied his handkerchief to his flagging cock. The cum and fabric curling around his length as he masturbated himself for Ryoken to watch. Ryoken studied Spectre’s genitals and how his hands so gorgeously interacted with them. He pulled on himself in a way which was almost elegant, even with the aide of the dirtied, pale pink handkerchief. Spectre closed his eyes to his actions, and he moaned in a way which was calculatedly lewd.

    Ryoken swallowed. Licked his lips as he found himself concentrating extraordinarily hard on how Spectre behaved. His eyes traced every little rise and fall of Spectre’s chest as he breathed, every little movement of his fingers as he went up and down his length, pumping himself whilst delicately encased in a handkerchief which was dirty with Ryoken’s cum. It was more than enough cause Ryoken to have a visceral reaction; his own erection rising, just like his desire to get on his knees and suck Spectre off.

   And soon, he was consumed by that desire and he found his voice: “Please,” Ryoken begged, “let me blow you.”

   Spectre raised an eyebrow to that and sighed. He continued to jerk himself off. Teasing Ryoken with how he touched his own cock.

   “Please.” Ryoken said. “Let me blow you, or – better yet – let me fuck you senseless. I’m blue-balling myself over here.”

   “I know, sir, but I want you to beg more, first.” Spectre replied, his voice airy with pleasure.

   “Understood.” Ryoken reluctantly replied.

   Spectre continued to very placidly masturbate himself with Ryoken watching. Slowly sinking to his knees, wishing desperately that his mouth could be on Spectre’s cock and his hands clasping onto Spectre’s thighs. Or in other, more contended positions.

   “Please.” Ryoken begged, a deeper inflection this time.

   “Not yet, sir.” Spectre’s voice cut like a knife on Ryoken.

   “At least narrate what your thinking about, I want to know.” Ryoken plead.

   Spectre’s eyes keened; the pupil thinning and widening with excitement. Ryoken’s heart pounded. He carefully watched Spectre’s mouth open to him and give a reply.

   “One condition.” Spectre smiled.

   “Anything.” panted Ryoken, his hands twitching at his sides, and the erratic movements caught Spectre’s amusements.

   “You are not permitted to touch yourself.”

   Ryoken swallowed. “Understood, Spectre.”

   Thus, Ryoken was permitted to delve into Spectre’s fantasy through the filter of his glorious and almost lyrical voice. He was something a poet; a wordsmith, he had a knack for language, or so Ryoken felt as he found himself all but coming as Spectre guided him through his personal fantasy. His fantasy was a strange place of trees and phantasmagoria.  A lot of it, Ryoken found utterly impenetrable; he couldn’t understand how a tree could be considered fuckable, but he loved Spectre’s voice and his passion. He was in utter throes of ecstasy as he was given the delightful chance to reel off all his ideas.

   And when Ryoken, or perhaps the idealised Ryoken that Spectre had inside his strange head, was included in Spectre’s grandiose fantasies, the Ryoken before him felt all the more teased. He loved being included. He loved Spectre doting on him. It made him feel so loved and when it was combined with all the things Spectre wanted to do with him – impossible and otherwise – it made him feel grand. It was slightly narcissistic but with Spectre’s subservience, it was difficult for Ryoken to not feel this way. He wanted to be served in every way possible by the youth before him.

   The pleasure of inclusion in Spectre’s wild fantasies, all the more alluring since Ryoken had a full and undisturbed view of Spectre’s hands on his cock. He had pianist hands, in Ryoken’s opinion. Long, slender fingers which were delicate with well-groomed nails. They were completely and utterly alluring and when they were grasped so tightly onto his own cock, it was quite the spectacle to revel in. Especially since his cock was rather thin and willowy, too. He was delicate, but his expressions were anything but. Spectre generously relished the grotesque and his face was uniquely malleable, but Ryoken did not avert his eyes to Spectre’s more unusual expressions of the sexual bliss he was feeling. If anything, watching his face contort as he pleasured himself was part of Ryoken’s gratification too because it was yet another aspect of his most-long standing companion whom he cherished.

   Ryoken held his breath. He felt as though his cock was its breaking point; he was aching for release. His hands stiffened by his sides, all but clamping onto his thighs or hips in an attempt to sate his need to sink in his fingers into flesh and find satisfaction. He was uncertain of if there would be punishment for the conviction that he was slowly clinging to, but honestly, Ryoken would take the ardour of all slings and arrows from Spectre, thought it helped that he did personally fetishize punishment. The air in his lungs turned hot and thus, he found his voice and he dared to break the delightful clamour of Spectre explaining out his fantasies and his movements.

   “Please,” Ryoken murmured beneath such a cacophony, “please fuck me.”

   Spectre’s ecstatic chatter came to a beautifully handled halt. His right brow edged downward and his left eye fluttered open. A grotesque intrigue as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. His breathing was steady whereas Ryoken’s was growing increasingly desperate.

   “Please.” Ryoken begged.

   Spectre lifted his leg and playfully, he pushed his foot up against Ryoken’s knees. Ryoken took a deep and simpering breath, red in the face beneath his snowy-white hair, and he collapsed. He panted. His cock ached between his legs.

   “Please fuck me.”

   His request hung in the air thickly. Ryoken’s voice, so desperate and fragile, echoed in Spectre’s head. The perfect, simpering melody which was further completed by such a pitiful expression upon his handsome brow. It was truly something that Spectre would ardently cherish from his usually stoic and stern master.

   “With pleasure, sir.” Spectre finally replied.

   He let a puff of breath escape his mouth with relish as he eyed up Ryoken. He took keen interest in how his lover seemed both relieved and ravished by the placating of his demand. After all, Ryoken’s shoulders adorably drew in and not to mention, the light which exploded forth from the inner of his blue eyes. It was all so perfect, to Spectre. And, it inspired him to draw closer and take a better long.

   Spectre neatly folded up the handkerchief that he had been using to masturbate himself. He placed it towards the centre of the desk. Then, he peeled himself off the edge of the desk where he had been perched. His movements were swan-like. He all but flounced around as he went behind the desk and quickly went through the bottom drawer. He reappeared, now with a bottle of a lube in hand. Then, with a serene smile, he came down onto his knees and into Ryoken’s personal space.

   He placed the lube at their knees. His right hand then ghosted along Ryoken’s jaw whilst his left took Ryoken’s hand by his side. Their eyes lined up, but their gazes slightly different. Ryoken was trying to remain composed, to save face, whereas Spectre had gotten serious; his eyes glinting, lashes fluttering as he held onto Ryoken’s cheeks as he forced a kiss onto Ryoken’s lips. Ryoken kissed back passionately: more begging for Spectre’s lust gone unsaid. Spectre kissed back demurely. He met Ryoken’s messy kiss with composure. Yet, it was his tongue which trespassed, deep and as far as he could go. Ryoken attempted to kiss back, but he felt gagged, yet it was such a freeing feeling. In his chest, he felt his heart pound with excitement. He was close. So close to receiving the full brunt of everything he desired.

   Tears, wispy and hot, gathered in the corners of his eyes. Spectre noticed and drew back. Ryoken breathed a little better now without Spectre’s tongue in his mouth, but he missed the penetration. But fortunately, Spectre remained close by. He kissed those little tears away, licking at the slick skin.

   “On your back,” Spectre whispered, “I’m going to fill you with my seed now.”

   Ryoken shivered, a curt grin blossomed on his reddened lips. “Thank you.” he replied.

   So, he followed the instruction. He let himself down. His body felt tense as he opened up his legs to Spectre. His legs bowed around Spectre’s waist whilst he dutifully slotted between them and letting his own knees act as some sort of cushioning to Ryoken’s lower extremities whilst he let the back of his head graze against the floor. The carpet tickled against Ryoken’s skin, but he didn’t mind. He knew that if he got so much as a paper-cut on his finger, Spectre would go all out patching him up so, he didn’t fear the possibility – or outright consequence – of carpet burn.

   “I’m going to prepare you for penetration.” Spectre told him as he opened the bottle of lube; a floral scent soon wafted in the sticky-hot room.

   Ryoken grunted; an affirmation of that he knew what he was getting himself into. And, without further ado, Spectre fingered him. His well-lubricated finger slipped in and Ryoken moaned. He shivered. His hips gave an involuntary buck. Spectre smiled and made an amused noise. He deftly loosened out Ryoken’s anus, easily slipping in a second finger. His digits dripped with the opaque fluid.

   A dull throb built up in Spectre’s wrist as he dug about inside of Ryoken’s hole with his fingers. He didn’t mind though; it was a cheap price to pay for the utter symphony which he was eliciting from Ryoken’s mouth. His moans were lurid, and Spectre revelled in the unchaste noises. And he found himself unable to contain his desire; he wanted more, and he wanted it badly.

   “I’m going to enter you now.” Spectre said, a blush in his cheeks.

   “Do it. Fuck me hard.” Ryoken panted, his mouth watered. “Fuck me with your beautiful wood.”

   “Of course, Master Ryoken.” Spectre blithely replied, his heart – and cock – swelling with the praise.

   With a hand either side of Ryoken’s toned thighs, Spectre lined up his cock with Ryoken’s hole. His penetration was swift, but a little tight. As he thrusted into Ryoken, Spectre admonished himself for being hasty in his lust, but he couldn’t help himself when he was excited; when there was true beauty to be grappled with. After all, he was someone enamoured with the unending pursuit of it and he was certain, he would be exposed to more of what he wanted once he had made a thorough mess of his precious Ryoken.

   Ryoken moaned beneath him. His vocalisations were drawn out and melodic. Ryoken was unabashed in his lust, in his reward. He wanted Spectre to know that he was doing such a great job; that everything that they had done together, from the moment that the collar had been unknowingly clasped around his neck under the stupor of hypnotism to this very second had all be worth it. His muscles rippled as he graciously accepted every impact that Spectre delivered unto him. He moaned again; this time, a chorus as Spectre moaned as well.

   Yet, his head did not dip back like Ryoken’s was prone to. Instead, Spectre was inspired to draw in closer. Deeper, too. He placed a hand on Ryoken’s chest, and he felt the warm surge of Ryoken’s quickened blood beneath the pad of his fingertips. He smiled to himself, a firmness gathering in his palms as he caresses Ryoken’s skin. His fingertips skirted along his nipples. Ryoken’s nose wrinkled and he bit his lip; a muffled noise elicited and further smothered when Spectre kissed him.

   Spectre’s kiss was surprisingly chaste and yet, Ryoken melted into it regardless. Especially as his nipple was toyed with so gently by Spectre’s wandering hand. He moaned into the kiss and it reverberated onto Spectre’s plump lips but rather than deepening the kiss, like Ryoken had hoped to entice him with such a wanton vocalisation, Spectre drew back.

   But Ryoken still felt his hot breath on his skin, prickling at it as Spectre’s words skittered over him in the form of a request: “Master Ryoken,” he began and Ryoken panted, “cum for me.”

   Spectre sank his teeth into Ryoken’s collarbone. His sensitive flesh was malleable beneath his bite. Ryoken panted and his aching cock was finally permitted to release. His breathing turned rapid and fervent lust incited the adrenaline in his veins. Spectre’s tongue swirled warmly over the indentations. Ryoken’s heart pounded.

   “Please, sir?” Spectre whispered as he lapped hard at Ryoken’s clavicle and toyed with his nipple.

   And Spectre’s quiet, slightly gravelly, voice murmur on his skin was like a teasing feather across Ryoken’s body. To further entice him, Spectre gave a salacious push against Ryoken, until his hilt was shoved up as closely against his entrance as possible. It was a sensual thrust, angled upward, and he easily managed to penetrate Ryoken’s core; his prostate. Ryoken held his breath and his brows twinged. A moan built up in his mouth as his chest rose. All of the pleasure, and the pain and longing too, finally externalised. Ryoken moaned, all of his body utilised, and he came.

   The resulting splatter was unabashedly messy. His cum painted his own belly, and even chest, but Spectre’s as well. Spectre revelled in the splash; thrusting harder against and into Ryoken. Ryoken blissfully moaned as he felt the effect of all the stimulation come down crashing on him in jagged waves of realisation. Until this moment, in a coo of ardent lust, Ryoken hadn’t realised just how far he had been edged and to the depth of denial that Spectre had entwined like a web through all his games. It was wonderful, even if it all but deflated him and he felt a great ache all throughout his body.

   Yet, Spectre gave him no rest – he was just a vessel for Spectre’s lust as of right now and Ryoken could not care at all. He loved it. He let Spectre continuously penetrate him, thrusting into his core and causing his cock to get hard again in the echoing wake of his orgasm.

   Ryoken panted and a hand rose, wandering and floppy yet with conviction. He stroked at Spectre’s face which had gone utterly mad with fervent lust and yet, despite the grotesque ecstasy of such an expression, Ryoken thought it beautiful in its ugly rawness. Though, perhaps, that was merely the heavy-lidded, post-orgasm sheen the world had adopted in his bliss protecting him and making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open.

   “Spectre?” he murmured. “Cum for me, now.”

   “With pleasure.” Spectre replied. He was breathless.

   Spectre seemed to have a higher breaking point than him, it seemed to Ryoken. He always took longer and came second. Ryoken suspects that it’s because that between the two of them, Spectre had his hands down his pants more frequently and that may have caused him to build stamina. Regardless, when he was asked, all of that seemed irrelevant for he would truly do anything for his master: even cum, when prompted.

   He gave one last tentative thrust, complete with a strangely gracious expression which softened his more hardened lust embedded upon his long and often lecherous face. He panted, tongue lolling and his blue eyes glimmering with both love and lust; such a brilliant shade of blue when shaded with such passions, especially as they were both framed by such gorgeously long and thick lashes.

   Thus, inside Ryoken, he came. Cum and lube mixed in Ryoken’s hole as Spectre kept himself steady in his penetration. Thrusts slowed, were stayed, and Spectre panted. His heart pounded hard and his hands wandered to Ryoken’s hips; not quite holding onto them, but certainly clasping at his bones, securing himself. Ryoken’s legs kicked then wrapped around him as he enjoyed the strange and viscous sensations in him; not to mention the feeling of Spectre’s still rather erect cock.

   Spectre’s fingers trailed along Ryoken’s skin which was slick with sweat. Slowly, he pulled back and Ryoken squirmed. His back ached and he felt roughed up due to the carpet. Ryoken breathed slowly and with Spectre no longer plugging him up, the cum and lube dripped out of his hole – something that Spectre couldn’t help but admire as he found himself shaping up in the wake of their love-making. His seed looked perfect decorating Ryoken like that. An almost proud smile tugged at his lips as his breathing steadied.

   Ryoken got up, sitting awkwardly and cross-legged but Spectre remained dutifully on his knees. Ryoken flashed him a smile which dissolved into laughter. Spectre wasn’t sure as to what was amusing but it certainly broke the surface tension all but consuming them in the warm office.

   Spectre cleared his throat. “W-Will you show me your back, sir? I want to assess the carpet burn I’m sure you acquired during that.”

   “I’m fine, Spectre.” he said, and he stretched. His muscles interlocked and his shoulders jutted out; it was quite the handsome spectacle.

   “Show me.” Spectre insisted.

   Ryoken twisted around and in doing so, he moaned; after-shocks of his orgasm remained in his throat and his body as he stewed with the fluids inside of him. As he twisted around, he could feel Spectre’s eyes on him. Spectre murmured thoughtfully as his gaze skittered over Ryoken’s back; he had some acne here and there, not to mention great stretches of redness, too.

   “I suppose it could be worse.” Spectre mused.

   “See?” Ryoken sighed and he twisted back around. “I’m fine. No big deal.”

   “Still,” Spectre began with his eyes softening with his good intentions, “I worry about hurting you, sometimes. Did I prepare you well enough? I was worried I was a bit hasty.”

   “Nah, I like the tight fit, to be honest. You were fine. Great, actually. That was… That was kind of mind-blowing. I’m exhausted, but it’s a good kind of exhaustion.” Ryoken replied.

   “I’m thrilled to hear it, sir.” Spectre replied.

   Ryoken smiled. He felt tingly and hearing Spectre call him ‘sir’ caused sparks inside of him yet again. His cock twitched but did not ultimately rise or harden for him. He hazarded a glance at Spectre’s cock and he seemed half-way there still. Damn his stamina, honestly.

   Spectre then drew himself back up, composing himself and he offered Ryoken his hand, “Let’s tidy up, how does that sound? We don’t want to stain the carpet, after all.” Spectre said.

   “Sounds good.” Ryoken replied and he accepted Spectre’s hand.

   He was pulled up and Ryoken stumbled forward. Briefly, Spectre wondered if he had used too much strength in pulling up his lover, but such thoughts were later contradicted when he saw the muscles in Ryoken’s legs spasm. Ryoken blushed. He felt gelatinous, so he huffed to hide his softness.

   “Also, one more thing.” He added.

   “Yes?” Spectre prompted him.

   “Today was a one-time exception. I still don’t want you using your hypnotism on me.” Ryoken said.

   “Understood, sir.” Spectre replied.


End file.
